


Equal Affection

by bexredgrave



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Angst galore, George Fancy is very gay in this, M/M, and very sad, this is very gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-15 11:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14789697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexredgrave/pseuds/bexredgrave
Summary: It’s 1968. Homosexuality has recently been legalised in the United Kingdom, but just because you won’t be arrested for it doesn’t mean society accepts it. When George Fancy, a man slowly accepting his own sexuality, meets Wystan Williams, an openly gay student, he is drawn into the world of love, conspiracy, and death. And, as George is soon to discover, not every love story has a happy ending.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Believe me, I am the biggest George/Shirley shipper, this was just too cute to not write

George Fancy had always known he was different. He had known since he was very young, thirteen or fourteen, when he was at school. The other boys bragged about the girls they had kissed in the alleyways behind the tobacconists, and George could not understand the appeal of what they were saying. Not even when he finally kissed Mary Wallace in the park one evening. It was nice and all, he thought, but he couldn’t explain why, the whole time, he had been thinking of Harry North, a boy in his class.

It took him a month to wrap his head around his thoughts, and when he did, he was terrified. He knew what happened to people like him. Snubbed by society, probably his family too. Arrested, if anyone caught him. And how was he supposed to find anyone like him? He could hardly just go over to a slightly iffy part of town and hang around, waiting for someone to find him. Aside from breaking just about every social stigma imaginable, he could wind up hanging around people of the seriously wrong sort.

So, he kept the truth to himself. He was young still, he had no obligation to find a wife yet, and no one would suspect anything if he did not. He had a girlfriend for a few months, and though, one night, they did have sex, the relationship was nothing serious, and he broke it off when he was told he would be moving to Oxford to fill the position of Detective Constable there.

The prospect of Oxford excited him somewhat. Devon was lovely and all, but Oxford was a city of history, of beauty, of youth. A city that, he was sure, he could make his own. And maybe, finally, a city in which he did not have to hide from himself.

The Sexual Offences Act had been implemented in the middle of 1967, and though they were still a far cry from allowing a police officer to be outwardly homosexual, at least he was out of danger from being imprisoned for it if anyone found out. Though he had no plans for anyone to find out. He had not told even his closest friends, and certainly not his family. Although they were not particularly religious, his parents had made their views on ‘sodomites’ crystal clear. No, he could never tell them.

When he arrived in Oxford in the spring of 1968, he held high hopes for the future. In a city like this, surely he could find others like him. Or at the very least, find some friends who accepted him. That was all he wanted.

*

His first case, the Fabergé egg case, had gone well, which he was pleased about. The next couple had taken hard work, but ultimately he and his colleagues had won the day. He was trying hard to show Morse, one of the Sergeants, that he could do his job – more than do it, but excel at it. Maybe he would attempt his Sergeant’s exam in a year or two. Then he could really prove his skill to everyone.

But today, he was the only one in the office who was not out solving some case or another. It made him feel isolated, unnecessary, like he was unwanted by all his seniors. He had nothing to do. He took the newspaper from Morse’s desk and flicked through it idly.

“Just you today, is it?”

George glanced up. Trewlove, one of the Constables. A woman. A very beautiful woman, if he was any judge. Probably one of the most unbiased judges around.

“Yeah,” he said. “Thursday and Morse are on the murder case, Strange is following up on the burglary thing, and Bright’s gone to London with his wife.”

“So you’re here on your own? Have you been demoted or something?”

George couldn’t be bothered to laugh, so he just shrugged. “Just got nothing to do, I guess.”

“Well, I was supposed to be getting a Sergeant, but since you’re not busy,” Trewlove said, “there’s something at the front desk. Assault.”

George tossed the newspaper onto the desk. “Who’ve we got? The victim or the attacker?”

“The victim,” Trewlove said. “He came in about ten minutes ago. Wystan Williams.”

“Wystan?”

“I know,” Trewlove said with a smile. “He says he was set upon when walking home through the city. Doesn’t know who attacked him.”

“All right, I’ll see to it. Where did you say he was, the front desk?”

“I put him in interview room two,” Trewlove said. “He’s a bit shaken up. I got him some tea and cigarettes.”

“Is there anything you can’t manage?”

*

“Mr Wystan Williams?” George said, entering the room. The man was alone, no guard needed since he wasn’t under arrest. He was sat at the table, smoking a cigarette through split lips and staring up at the window. The ashtray was peppered with stubs. He paused halfway through a drag of the cigarette as George entered.

“Yes,” he said. He was fairly well dressed, though his shirt was dirty and there was a light purple bruise upon his cheek. The hand holding the cigarette was shaking slightly.

“Interesting name,” George said, trying to make conversation.

“Isn’t it,” Williams said. “What’s yours?”

“Detective Constable Fancy.”

“Equally interesting,” Williams said. “I suppose you’re here to ask me some questions.”

“Yes,” George said, getting out his notebook and sitting at the table across from Williams. “Erm, address?”

“Mayfield College,” Williams said. “I’m doing a doctorate in Medieval History. I’m twenty-three.”

“Do you have any idea who attacked you?”

“No,” Williams said. “He pushed me from behind, then hit me when I was on the ground. He was young, probably a bit older than me, but I didn’t recognise him.”

“Do you think you would be able to pick him out from a line-up?”

“I expect so. I have a good memory for faces.”

George wrote down ‘get someone to organise a line-up’.

“Do you know why you were targeted?”

“Of course,” Williams said, a smile playing on his bruised lips. “It’s because I’m a homosexual.”

George almost dropped his pen.

“Oh, you don’t like that, do you? Sorry, but I know the law. Under the Sexual Offences Act of last year, my practices are perfectly legal as long as they are private and consensual.”

“It’s not that,” George croaked. His mouth was dry. “I mean – I’m not going to arrest you or anything.”

“Glad to hear it,” Williams said, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Everyone at college knew anyway, but since last year I’ve been more open about it. Rubbed it in their faces a little, I confess. So it could be a fellow student, I suppose. But like I said, no one that I know.”

George cleared his throat. “Any, um, witnesses?”

“Probably. None that would come forward if you asked. Like I said, I’m open about it. Half of them don’t care what happens to me, and the other half are likely glad I was assaulted.”

“I see,” George said, writing down ‘appeal for information?’. “Has anything like this happened before?”

“Well, verbal abuse, in college and in the street, but never physical.”

“If you’re afraid, I can arrange police protection –“

“That won’t be necessary,” Williams said. “I’m not afraid.”

“All right,” George said. “I’ll see you out now.”

Williams looked surprised. “What, that’s it? Not ten million questions? Not an attempt to prove I’ve been committing sodomy with teenagers?”

“No, Mr Williams,” George said. “Frankly, I don’t care what you get up to.” He tried to convey indifference, but he was unable to look Williams in the eye. He put his notebook in his pocket and got up, but Williams did not follow. Instead, he looked up at George, like he was studying him.

“You’re like me, aren’t you?”

George felt his stomach turn. “What are you talking about?”

Williams smiled. “Gay.”

“Shhhh!” George hissed, alarmed. “No, don’t – don’t speak,” he said when Williams started to say something else. “I’ll walk you home, we can talk on the way.”

*

“How long have you known?”

George had his hands in his pockets, staring across the street at nothing in particular. He did not answer Williams.

“I knew when I was sixteen,” Williams said. “A boy in my class kissed me. He was arrested a couple of years later. But it was my... awakening, if you like. Since then, I’ve had about... oh, six boyfriends.”

“I’ve known since I was about thirteen,” George whispered. It was the first time he had ever admitted the fact out loud. It made him feel sick.

“Ever been with anyone?”

“No.”

“Do you want to be with me?”

George stopped dead in the middle of the pavement.  
“I could show you a few things,” Williams continued.  
“Se-sexually?”

“Naturally.”

“I – I don’t –“

“I like you,” Williams said, “and I would like to get to know you. You don’t have to decide right away.” He took an old envelope and pen out of his pocket and scribbled down an address. He gave it to George. “This is a friend’s house. He lets me use it sometimes. If you want to see me again, go there at ten p.m. tomorrow evening.”

George said nothing.

“I can walk myself from here,” Williams said. He stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered off, turning back briefly to smile at George. George couldn't bring himself to smile back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot the Life Born of Fire reference.
> 
> Absolutely no idea when this will be updated, but chapter two is nearly finished.
> 
> The title comes from the poem The More Loving One by W.H. Auden, which is also where I got Wystan's name


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There isn't any actual, explicit smut here, mainly because my asexual arse can't stomach writing sex scenes, but... it's very heavily implied, so proceed with caution I guess! Also some mild swearing, nothing that wouldn't be said in an actual Endeavour episode.

When George arrived back at the station, Morse and Thursday had returned. Morse was waiting by George’s desk, fidgeting with the newspaper that had been left there. He glanced up with a frown as George entered.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Following up an assault case,” George said, with slightly more animosity than he had intended. “Why? Didn’t think you needed me.”

“Only to file some paperwork for us,” Thursday said with his usual amiability. “What’s this case, then?”

“A man was attacked this morning,” George said carefully. “I got his details and took him home.” Was he imagining how suspicious that sounded?

He must have been, because Morse shrugged and dropped a pile of papers on his desk without another word.

*

The next day, he was taken out by Morse and Thursday on the murder case, which, as it happened, they managed to solve. Or rather, Morse managed to solve. Afterwards, they all went back to the station to lounge around for a bit, giving George ample time to think about his situation.

If he did not go to the house that evening, that would be it. He would never see Williams again, maybe never meet anyone like him again. His whole life he would be alone; or, he would pick a woman at random and condemn them both to a life in hell.

On the other hand, if he did go to the house, he would almost certainly have gay sex tonight.

Look, what did he have to be afraid of? Homosexuality wasn’t illegal anymore. But, he argued with himself, just because he wouldn’t be arrested for it, didn’t mean society accepted it. If anyone found out, he could be sacked. If this house was some kind of private sex hostel, as he imagined from Williams’ words, and someone saw him going in, what would that do to his reputation, even the small one he had? And he would be dead in the eyes of his colleagues. Plus, Williams might turn out to be an arsehole and get him to do things he didn’t want to do.

But if he was careful, no one would suspect a thing. It was Friday, he wasn’t in work the next day, and his housemates would probably just think he was out with a girl. And even if he ended up not liking Williams, he would have shown him some things, like how to... perform well. If he did have any future partners. Or if he did like Williams... well, better to not get ahead of himself. Williams might not like him all that much. It wasn’t like he was a particularly interesting guy.

He resolved to go. Sure, he had a lot to lose, but then again, he had everything to gain.

“You’re being quiet.”

He started at the voice, thought for a terrific second it was Williams, then realised it was Morse. He was doing a crossword or something. George shrugged.

“Don’t you have anywhere to be?”

George had been around Morse for about a month now, and he could tell that Morse wasn’t even trying to be rude, it just came out that way.

“Not yet.”

He regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth. Why couldn’t he have just said no?

“Doing something later?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Date?”

“Mmm.”

“What’s her name?” Morse said. He sounded to George like he was trying to feign interest in order to keep up the conversation. Though it was possible he actually cared.

“W-wendy. Nothing serious, though.”

“No, of course not.”

George considered an hostile response, but decided he couldn’t be arsed with the argument. “You got anything on?” Either drinking himself to sleep or screwing the first woman he finds, he thought, if Jim’s stories are true.

He thought something flashed behind Morse’s eyes for a second, before they moved back to the crossword and he answered, “No.”

*

The address George had been given was in Jericho, not too far from his lodgings, and the May evening was warm and light. He was a little early, but he could always walk around the block. Though he was afraid that if he did that, he would lose his nerve and just walk away.

But Williams must have seen him through the window, because the door opened before he even knocked.

“Come in quickly,” Williams said, ushering George through the door. He shut the door behind him. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, thanks.” He didn’t want to be remotely drunk.

“In that case, bedroom’s upstairs.”

“Are you on a schedule or something?” George asked, trying to sound more cocky than he was.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Williams said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We can talk for a bit first, if you want. Living room is through there.”

George went through into the living room. “Look, Williams –“

“Wystan, please. That reminds me, I don’t know your name. Oh, do sit down.”

“George.”

“George. That’s nice. What were you going to say, George?”

He hesitated. “We’re going to have sex.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never done that before. I mean, I have with a woman, once, but never with a man. I don’t...” He felt himself blushing. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you,” Wystan said. It was nice, to think of him as Wystan; it made them feel more intimate.

“Will it take long?”

“Depends,” Wystan said. “You can stay all night, if you want. I’m not busy.”

George nodded. “Is it... good?”

Wystan laughed. “Of course,” he said. “If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now. Or if you mean am I personally good at it, well, I’ve had good reviews. The boy I first was with told me I was a natural. Loving has always come naturally to me.”

“Who’s going on –“ George took a deep breath, as the word ‘loving’ had startled him. “Who’s going on top and who on bottom?”

“I’ll go on top, I think. I can do both, but it’s better for you if I’m on top, because I know what I’m doing. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” George said faintly.

“Is it okay if we start now?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, we should go upstairs now.”

He reached out his hand and George took it gingerly.

*

“Do I need to take my clothes off?”

Wystan sighed, with the air of a nursery teacher trying to remain patient with her charges. “Not if you don’t want to.”

They were sat on the bed in the largest room, which was only about ten metres by ten metres. George was by the headboard, Wystan at the foot. Wystan was in the process of removing his shirt.

“Obviously, you’re going to have to take off your trousers,” Wystan continued.

George nodded but didn’t move.

Wystan pulled off his vest; George swallowed.

“But I’d like you to take off your shirt.”

“Oh – erm – okay,” George said. He started to undo the buttons.

Wystan half-smiled. He threw his vest across the room and crawled up the bed. “I like your braces.”

“Thanks,” George said, shrugging them off his shoulders. He hadn’t gotten changed after work: a burglary call had come in just as he was about to clock off, and he’d been busy until nine fifteen.

“Can I help you take your shirt off?”

If this was sexy talk, he liked it. He thought he liked it. Wystan was pale and thin, with the merest hint of muscles – inexplicably, he found himself likening him to Morse. He banished the thought immediately.

Wystan leaned forward and gently pulled George’s shirt off. He wasn’t wearing a vest. The room was warm with the spring air, but nevertheless he felt a chill. He tried to stifle a shiver.

Wystan carefully pressed his lips against George’s.

It was a short kiss, barely long enough to count as anything but a peck, like a child tentatively dipping its toes into the ocean. George’s eyes were open, more in surprise than horror. Wystan pulled away quickly, saw George’s expression, and shrank back.

And George jumped forward and kissed him back, properly this time, with mouths and tongues and passion and love, like he had never kissed anyone before. Wystan sank onto his back with George on top of him. They melted into one another. Wystan grabbed George’s shoulders then slowly ran his hands up through his hair. He broke away for long enough to whisper, “Are you ready?” into George’s ear.

“Yes,” George whispered back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Thank you so much to everyone who's read this self-indulgent fluff so far!
> 
> (Also, if you spot any typos, please tell me in a comment, I won't be offended, I want to know.)


End file.
